Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Imagine – a festival that includes a whole community – young and old, readers, writers and those in between. A festival that seeks to celebrate the written word in all its forms – poetry and prose, and which celebrates the performance of those words too. A festival that is not held in starry, glitzy and expensive venues, but in a working theatre space, a converted chapel - Bridport Arts Centre. Or in a room above a restaurant. Or in a café. And a festival that attracts not only local readers and writers, and emerging writers, and those who have emerged (whatever that be...) but also some of the best known names in the land. Carol Ann Duffy, poet laureate. A L Kennedy, much lauded writer and performer. It doesn’t get better than that.

The Bridport Open Book Festival is the celebration of the written word that surrounds one of the most respected story and poetry competitions in the English speaking world – The Bridport Prize. In 2007, this writer won a prize in the short story section, and we travelled down, my husband and I, all the way from Sussex. At the prizegiving lunch I met writers who had come from the west coast of the USA to collect a £50 prize – such is the respect for this award, and an indication of how much it matters to those whose work is selected. 2011 was no different. Several writers had traveled great distances for their moment of glory – a walk amid warm applause up to the Bridport Arts Centre stage, to collect a cream envelope from this year’s judges... see above - said poet laureate and said lauded writer/performer.

I was at Bridport to do a few things meself. Firstly, running two flash fiction workshops alongside friend and colleague Tania Hershman, she of The White Road and Other Stories, and Bristol Science faculty, and much too much more to mention in one sentence! Friday’s session was held in a packed room above a rather nice restaurant called The Olive Tree, who supplied us with fresh coffee, pastries, cakes - and Saturday’s was in the school room attached to the Quaker meeting house. We had a brilliant time – participants left each session with at least three first draft flashes, and a sprinkling of story seeds and ideas for more. Lovely to work with T – and lovely to plan ahead for more workshops in 2012. I was particularly pleased that David Woolley came to a session – he is the new Festival Director, an acclaimed poet, and erstwhile director of the Dylan Thomas Centre at Swansea, and the Dylan Thomas Festival. We had an interesting and not-long-enough natter about prose poetry..., which he says, does not exist. Hope to be able to argue more intelligently next year if I go as a customer again!

Second, a lovely event scheduled for 6 pm on Saturday evening, showing how winning a Bridport Prize can lead to amazing things – my chance to compere an event – to interview colleagues who have gone on to be published, and to invite them to read their work. Judith Allnatt read to us from her second novel, the rather brilliant ‘The Poet’s Wife’ – about Patty, wife of John Clare. And short story writer Adam Marek, author of ‘Instruction Manual for Swallowing’ (Comma Press) read a new short story. I read from The Coward’s Tale. Q and A followed.

'Storm Warning' (second collection) was the adult title chosen for the Bridport Big Read this year (thank you!) and it was great to answer a question about mining – added to The Coward’s Tale – it does make me seem a bit of a nerd – o soddit. I am a nerd. Official.

Then, clutching a pint glass containing a local cider brew, we sidled into the main theatre for one of the main highlights of the Festival... Onto the stage came not only our poet laureate, clad in a flowing grey top, but a musician by the name of John Sampson who proceeded to floor us with his playing of penny whistles, recorders of all sorts, crump horns and goat horns, at one point donning a Mozart wig. Oh he was so clever. Acted with his eyes and had everyone in stitches. Or he had us on the verge of tears... as he accompanied CAD in her reading of some of her poems. She in turn accompanied us on a journey through the gamut of emotion – we laughed at her observations, and we nodded in understanding and in awe, and we cried. At least I did – when she finished with a poem about her mother. But they were good tears!I certainly fell in love a little with Carol Ann – as did most of the other writers with me, both male and female. What a star! To recover, we found there is a jolly nice curry house in Bridport High Street. Six of us gathered there and stuffed our faces until late...

Saturday, and the second workshop. More great work, interesting exercises – including a science based ‘word cricket’ which had me scribbling like crazy... Then the prize-giving bubbly reception, lunch and award ceremony, watching the winners and runners up receiving their prizes from the judges. Smashing to see Euan Thorneycroft from A M Heath, the London lit agency who read all the finalists’ work (and my agent...proof if such was needed that The Bridport Prize really does change lives). Smashing to see friend and colleague Peggy Riley collecting her runner-up prize, and smashing to hear many of the winners reading their poems, flashes, and snippets of stories. Back to The Bull Hotel in the High Street for tea, with Adam and Tania – which morphed into an early sarnie supper before the second highlight of the festival, A L Kennedy on stage – and said supper in turn morphed into early sarnie supper with said A L K. It was great to meet her properly – to be able to ask questions like ‘So what did the Austrians/German audiences think of ‘Day’?’ and stuff like that.

Her performance later, alone on stage, and shoeless, was terrific. Inspirational. Moving...I won't spoil it, if you haven’t seen her – suffice it to say that she is in love with words, and always has been. She is a quietly great actor, too – to hear her perform Goneril’s speech to Lear, while fixing a man in the front row with a gentle gaze – was absolutely unforgettable. Sir, I love you more than word can yield the matter; Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e’er loved, or father found A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. Beyond all manner of so much I love you...

I should think the gentleman's wife gave him hell later... If you didn’t also fall in love with words that evening, you weren’t listening properly, sez me.

Then we repaired to a nearby watering hole to partake of the waters, easing past a badge-laden bouncer to take advantage of a lull in the evening’s jollities – until our table was removed by the bar staff, who warned us ‘it gets packed in here, just you wait...’Brekkie at Hive Beach café on the Sunday, before taking Tania to Dorchester station – sitting outside in the sunshine, listening to the crashing of the waves...then walking on the beach and marveling at the cliffs. It was a wedding anniversary - I got home, knackered, to a huge bunch of flowers, and supper cooking...lucky me.

Thanks Bridport, I had a wonderful and unforgettable time. And before I sign off, this is the lady behind the Bridport Prize -the lovely and incredibly hard-working Frances Everett, who deserves an enormous round of applause!---Oh. PS - I had a poem shortlisted. This has now happened a few times - and not the same poem neither. Who knows - one day, I might end up with a pome in the anthology. I'd like that. There's a public challenge for me!

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

The Coward's Tale is compared to the work of many different people, in reviews out this week - in an attempt to explain what it is like. Among the comparisons are: "A Welsh version of Garrison Keillor"-

.This by Litlove, in a wonderful write-up on Tales from the Reading RoomDavid Rose, on his terrific Amazon review, likens it to Dylan Thomas's Under Milk Wood, (as do many) and Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, but also says it is more reminiscent of the work of artist Stanley Spencer.Stanley Spencer's 'Resurrection'.Writer Tom Conoboy compares the novel to another artist, this time, the visionary Brueghel, in a seriously in-depth analysis of the book on his blog. The Fall of the Rebel Angels, Pieter Brueghel the Elder

Marie Claire Magazine said it was "dazzling, vibrant and melancholy", and it is one of two titles in their November Good Book club special offers...Psychologies Magazine calls it "Poetic..." and "an absorbing portrait of love, grief and humanity".And if you would like to win a copy, go to Bookhugger, read a snippet and answer an easy question!

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Isn't this smashing? I am delighted to welcome friend and vastly talented writer Nuala Ni Chonchuir who has popped across from Ireland to natter abut her new collection of poetry, 'The Juno Charm', out with Salmon publishing. She has kindlystopped off here on her blog tour. Right, I'll just pull up a couple of chairs...Vanessa: So, multi-book person, poet, short story writer, novelist, tell me how you think the perspective of a poet, indeed any creative writer, changes when they start to see the world as a parent, not just as a 'free spirit' adult with no eye on the genetic inheritance and its future success or not.

Nuala: I'll restrict my responses to those of my poet self... I wrote poetry all along but I didn’t get serious about it until my late twenties, and I was already a parent by then (I had my first son at 23). I think as a parent you do see the world differently, because it suddenly becomes a scary place for your kids. Some of my work has been inspired by my kids: pregnancy poems, birth poems, charm poems that wish for happy lives for them. There’s a poem in this collection called ‘Two Children are Threatened by a Nightingale’ and it’s about 9/11 with reference to my son worrying about worldly dangers.I would never censor myself because of my kids – in my experience, writers’ offspring have little interest in the writer parent’s work. I do hope they will read my books as adults and maybe understand me a bit more as a result.

Vanessa: I want to ask about all the poems, as they have your stamp of being mesmeric, many are seductive, and all seem beautiful to this reader ... but I will confine the question to one - hidden in the middle, ‘The Japanese Madonna’. I love that. Can you tell me about the images here - where does this come from? What's the 'story?'

Nuala: We had a spate of moving Virgin Mary statues here in Ireland – people were convinced the statues were rocking, crying etc. I have a great love for the BVM as an icon – she was one of the few women to feature prominently in the church of my childhood and I think we can claim her as a strong mother, whether we are religious or not. So I’m interested in her in all her forms and I came across a picture of a Japanese Madonna and thought, ‘Of course, why wouldn’t there be such a woman?’ She appeared to a nun in Japan and she wept and bled (apparently). So, she was a good story for a poem, in contrast to one of our own moving statues who just rocked. (You can reproduce the poem if you like.)

Vanessa: I do like! Thanks so much. And here it is - the little gem:

The Japanese Madonna

As Madonna of AkitaI was carvedby a Buddhist froma weeping katsura.

I forsook kimono and zorifor an unpainted robe,a European chin,and an aristocrat’s gaze.

I dropped blood-tears,my sweat stank of roses,and I warned that firewould fall from the sky.

In BallinspittleI was made of stone;I just flexed my fingersand rocked.

And one more, sorry, I can't quite let this go... the final poem, ‘The Writer’s Room’. It is very funny – I’d love to know about the photographs it was inspired by. But more importantly, you say the writer is 'unassailable' whilst keeping space for the prizes to come, on the shelves... loved that! But I wondered, you, the writer – how to stay 'unassailable'? How to you tackle the demons who tell you something is rubbish, not to write it? Or don't you suffer from those?

Nuala: The Guardian used to do a series of photos on a Saturday of writers’ rooms and there was often a po-faced description (from the writer) about the space, the muse and so forth. So I was poking fun at the kind of writer who seems to adore the idea of being a writer and comes out with a lot of egotistical rot as a result.One of the writers said they were ‘unassailable’ at their desk and there is that feeling, when the work is going well, that you are safe in your working (yet imaginary) world.Sometimes the voice that says something is rubbish is a sensible voice telling me to re-look at the work. I’ve written two unpublished novels (years of work) and they will never be published because they don’t deserve to be.There are always doubts, about everything. Bringing out a new book is a horrible mix of fear and elation. Will everyone hate it? Will they get it? Confidence in the work waxes and wanes.

Vanessa: Many of the poems are wonderfully physical, sensual pieces of work. I think I made that point in our discussion on Red Car – some poems from that reappear here in The Juno Charm and it’s lovely that they may find a broader readership. I am finding increasingly that the process of writing is a physical one. I’m not talking backache and RSI here (!) but more the physical sensation, a sort of 'don't do this Vanessa,' warning when I am 'controlling' the work too much and not letting the characters/ words flow as they will, at least at first draft stage. Do you find writing a physical process?

Nuala: Yes, in the sense that I jig in my seat when it’s going well; I rub my hands together and laugh. I also get tingles when things start to flow in the right direction, or a logical connection happens that, up to that point, I hadn’t seen. Real tingles – hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-rising stuff.I read my work aloud all the time so I throw myself into it. I love that all-jigging, smiling, hair-raising feeling, I must say ☺.

Vanessa : I'm perennially interested to know this - but how do you know when a poem is being born? And how do you know when it is finished?

Nuala: Gosh, erm, it just feels like a poem as opposed to fiction. It has a shorter span as it plays out before me. I’ve written poems and stories on the same topics, so it’s not necessarily a subject matter issue. I guess something just hits me and it won’t go away until I write it down.As for being finished, it’s done when I grow tired of tinkering and when its music sounds right to my ear when I say it out loud.Thanks so much for having me, Vanessa, and for such intriguing questions. Next week my tour takes me to Co. Kildare and writer Niamh Boyce’s blog Words A Day. It would be lovely if people could join me there.

BIO: Born in Dublin in 1970, Nuala Ní Chonchúir lives in Galway county. Her début novel You (New Island, 2010) was called ‘a heart-warmer’ by The Irish Times and ‘a gem’ by The Irish Examiner. Her third short story collection Nude (Salt, 2009)) was shortlisted for the UK’s Edge Hill Prize. Her second short story collection To The World of Men, Welcome has just been re-issued by Arlen House in an expanded paperback edition. The Juno Charm, her third full poetry collection, is launched this week in Dublin and Galway.Here is the link to the page on Salmon if people want to buy the book: HERE!Credit:The portrait of Nuala is by Emilia Krysztofiak

Thanks for stopping by, Nuala. Lots of good luck with this wonderful collection.

Edit and added - I am really sorry - everyone who has left lovely comments, including Nuala herself, will see they aren't here. Maybe because I set up the post to be published automatically, Blogger is deleting anything new... many apologies. Thank you for your messages, and to Nuala - she had thanked people, and its all got blanked!

Monday, 14 November 2011

Saturday morning, 19th November, I am doing a different sort of book signing at Waterstones Brighton! For every lovely reader who buys a copy of The Coward's Tale, I will write a short short short story...something whimsical and just for them, with their own name if they want, as the character. Must be nuts!Photos from Twitpic here

(The book launch at Daunt Books last Thursday was wonderful! I will post something when I've collected photos from friends. Guess who didn't take a camera...?)

Sunday, 13 November 2011

Writers may be aware that there are ongoing discussions on several well-supported blogs, and on Twitter, Facebook and so forth, about the merits, or not, of the Brit Writers organisation.

One such conversation, preceded by the most reasonable list of questions which any organisation must be able to answer easily - is on Claire King's blog, here.

I don't propose to enter into a dialogue here, but suggest that all writers who are thinking of spending their hard-earned cash either entering their competitions, or submitting work for review and possible publication, might do well to read as much as they can before parting with any funds.

This is no different to the advice I'd give writers wondering whether to enter any other competition, or mustering the bravery to send a manuscript for assessment at any literary consultancy. You should always always always check the credibility of the organisations, and whether the claims they make are solid. Then armed with as much info as you can muster, make up your own mind.

Added: To help you - perhaps you might find this post useful: Debi Alper, who was initially pleased to be a judge for a Brit Writers competition, but who then withdrew her support, has collated several 'discussions' and links to them, in one blog post. HERE.

Isn't this smashing? My friend and vastly talented writer Nuala Ni Chonchuir has popped across from Ireland to natter abut her new collection of poetry, The Juno Charm, out with Salmon publishing. Right, I'll just pull up a couple of chairs...Vanessa: So, multi-book person, poet, short story writer, novelist, tell me how you think the perspective of a poet, indeed any creative writer, changes when they start to see the world as a parent, not just as a 'free spirit' adult with no eye on the genetic inheritance and its future success or not.

Nuala: I'll restrict my responses to those of my poet self... I wrote poetry all along but I didn’t get serious about it until my late twenties, and I was already a parent by then (I had my first son at 23). I think as a parent you do see the world differently, because it suddenly becomes a scary place for your kids. Some of my work has been inspired by my kids: pregnancy poems, birth poems, charm poems that wish for happy lives for them. There’s a poem in this collection called ‘Two Children are Threatened by a Nightingale’ and it’s about 9/11 with reference to my son worrying about worldly dangers.I would never censor myself because of my kids – in my experience, writers’ offspring have little interest in the writer parent’s work. I do hope they will read my books as adults and maybe understand me a bit more as a result.

Vanessa: I want to ask about all the poems, as they have your stamp of being mesmeric, many are seductive, and all seem beautiful to this reader ... but I will confine the question to one - hidden in the middle, ‘The Japanese Madonna’. I love that. Can you tell me about the images here - where does this come from? What's the 'story?'

Nuala: We had a spate of moving Virgin Mary statues here in Ireland – people were convinced the statues were rocking, crying etc. I have a great love for the BVM as an icon – she was one of the few women to feature prominently in the church of my childhood and I think we can claim her as a strong mother, whether we are religious or not. So I’m interested in her in all her forms and I came across a picture of a Japanese Madonna and thought, ‘Of course, why wouldn’t there be such a woman?’ She appeared to a nun in Japan and she wept and bled (apparently). So, she was a good story for a poem, in contrast to one of our own moving statues who just rocked. (You can reproduce the poem if you like.)

Vanessa: I do like! Thanks so much. And here it is - the little gem:

The Japanese Madonna

As Madonna of AkitaI was carvedby a Buddhist froma weeping katsura.

I forsook kimono and zorifor an unpainted robe,a European chin,and an aristocrat’s gaze.

I dropped blood-tears,my sweat stank of roses,and I warned that firewould fall from the sky.

In BallinspittleI was made of stone;I just flexed my fingersand rocked.

And one more, sorry, I can't quite let this go... the final poem, ‘The Writer’s Room’. It is very funny – I’d love to know about the photographs it was inspired by. But more importantly, you say the writer is 'unassailable' whilst keeping space for the prizes to come, on the shelves... loved that! But I wondered, you, the writer – how to stay 'unassailable'? How to you tackle the demons who tell you something is rubbish, not to write it? Or don't you suffer from those?

Nuala: The Guardian used to do a series of photos on a Saturday of writers’ rooms and there was often a po-faced description (from the writer) about the space, the muse and so forth. So I was poking fun at the kind of writer who seems to adore the idea of being a writer and comes out with a lot of egotistical rot as a result.One of the writers said they were ‘unassailable’ at their desk and there is that feeling, when the work is going well, that you are safe in your working (yet imaginary) world.Sometimes the voice that says something is rubbish is a sensible voice telling me to re-look at the work. I’ve written two unpublished novels (years of work) and they will never be published because they don’t deserve to be.There are always doubts, about everything. Bringing out a new book is a horrible mix of fear and elation. Will everyone hate it? Will they get it? Confidence in the work waxes and wanes.

Vanessa: Many of the poems are wonderfully physical, sensual pieces of work. I think I made that point in our discussion on Red Car – some poems from that reappear here in The Juno Charm and it’s lovely that they may find a broader readership. I am finding increasingly that the process of writing is a physical one. I’m not talking backache and RSI here (!) but more the physical sensation, a sort of 'don't do this Vanessa,' warning when I am 'controlling' the work too much and not letting the characters/ words flow as they will, at least at first draft stage. Do you find writing a physical process?

Nuala: Yes, in the sense that I jig in my seat when it’s going well; I rub my hands together and laugh. I also get tingles when things start to flow in the right direction, or a logical connection happens that, up to that point, I hadn’t seen. Real tingles – hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-rising stuff.I read my work aloud all the time so I throw myself into it. I love that all-jigging, smiling, hair-raising feeling, I must say ☺.

Vanessa : I'm perennially interested to know this - but how do you know when a poem is being born? And how do you know when it is finished?

Nuala: Gosh, erm, it just feels like a poem as opposed to fiction. It has a shorter span as it plays out before me. I’ve written poems and stories on the same topics, so it’s not necessarily a subject matter issue. I guess something just hits me and it won’t go away until I write it down.As for being finished, it’s done when I grow tired of tinkering and when its music sounds right to my ear when I say it out loud.Thanks so much for having me, Vanessa, and for such intriguing questions. Next week my tour takes me to Co. Kildare and writer Niamh Boyce’s blog Words A Day. It would be lovely if people could join me there.

BIO: Born in Dublin in 1970, Nuala Ní Chonchúir lives in Galway county. Her début novel You (New Island, 2010) was called ‘a heart-warmer’ by The Irish Times and ‘a gem’ by The Irish Examiner. Her third short story collection Nude (Salt, 2009)) was shortlisted for the UK’s Edge Hill Prize. Her second short story collection To The World of Men, Welcome has just been re-issued by Arlen House in an expanded paperback edition. The Juno Charm, her third full poetry collection, is launched this week in Dublin and Galway.Here is the link to the page on Salmon if people want to buy the book: HERE!Credit:The portrait of Nuala is by Emilia Krysztofiak

Saturday, 5 November 2011

A few posts ago, I burbled about how delighted I was (and not a little relieved...) that A N Wilson had liked "The Coward's Tale", and his review in Readers' Digest was going to be positive. It is indeed positive. It is "a dream review" to quote Sam Leith (@questingvole on Twitter). (Sam played an important role in the genesis of The Coward's Tale in his role as Lit Ed of The Daily Telegraph (may their pages never dim), back in 2007, when he ran A Novel in a Year competition. Not that this took a year, you understand. More like 6, but that's by the by.)

The first line of A N Wilson's review, 'This first novel is a gem', is the start of a list of very generous comments. But you'll have to go find Readers' Digest to read the rest. I'm far too modest to post any more here. (HA!!)

It is also good for the soul, in case one gets too la di da about all this - to see that a reviewer on Waterstones online found the novel 'Not my cup of tea'. Balance in all things, don't you think? There. That feels better.

"..terrific..." FT

Events diary

August 1-7 - Leading a workshop at Anam Cara, Ireland: ONCE UPON A TIME... rediscover your creative freedom - is it a story, a prose-poem, poem, short short, micro, drama for stage screen or radio? NO BOXES!

August 8 - reading poetry, Anam Cara event

September 15 Giving a talk to a Lewes group.

October 4 - Northampton reading, for launch of Ed's Wife and Other Creatures